


Sins of Valor

by Samuraider



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Darker Themed Story, Depression, Drug Use, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Instability, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Profanity, Sarcasm, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, Violence, vulgarity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-27 20:54:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10816554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samuraider/pseuds/Samuraider
Summary: 210 years after “The Great War” submerged the world in pandemonium, Marcus Gualtiero awakens to a post-apocalyptic Commonwealth. As he attempts to establish a new life, he must confront a reoccurring threat thought to of been left behind centuries ago. The question is… how does he fight an invisible opponent? Especially one in his own head?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[[ - WARNING: This entire work has an extremely dark theme to it. If you or someone you know suffers from PTSD, suicidal thoughts, and/or a mental disorder, please seek help. We all could do a little bit more for this world knowing someone loves and cares about us. - ]]]

The aching sensation lingered as Marcus opened his eyes. He winced as the daylight became painfully unbearable as his attempted to adjust to his surroundings. The rustling of dead tree limbs reminded him of the dilapidated world he tries to survive in, much to his displeasure. He left the world filled with beauty and rules and stepped into a foreign world of chaos and destruction. Only a fraction of his former homeland remained intact after the nuclear fallout that engulfed the world.

Rubbing at his left eye, he grimaced as he withdrew his hand to notice the smear of blood mingled with dirt and grime. The semi-deep cuts down the side of his face haven’t fully healed, but thankfully they didn’t seem to impair his overall senses either. Moving his legs, Marcus gritted his teeth against the painful explosion coursing along his left thigh. He knew a stimpak was necessary to mend the laceration to his skin and muscles. Glancing around, Marcus spotted his backpack a few feet away from him. Reaching out, he pulled it towards him and rummaged through the items within. He finally found the object of interest and withdrew a bottle of whiskey.

“You and I are going to be best friends,” Marcus said as he removed the lid and took a swallow. The liquor burned down his throat to which Marcus sighed appreciatively. Dogmeat barely moved from his position of cuddling up next to Marcus. Instead, he remained asleep as Marcus continued drinking away some of the misery.

The prolonged side effect from the whiskey barely dulled the searing pain to his left thigh. Being inadequately prepared with the necessary medical supplies would have earned him a severe discipline by military standards.

“They’re probably all dead,” Marcus muttered as he reached over to scratch Dogmeat’s ear. Dogmeat rested his muzzle on Marcus’ good thigh, glancing up at Marcus and softly whined.

“It’s alright, boy,” Marcus leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Between Dogmeat and his breathing, the world around him was peaceful for the time being. He would eventually have to head out to trudge across the wasteland in hopes of encountering a medical facility or if he’s lucky, a hidden stash of useful chems.

Even if the agonizing pain in his left thigh refused to subside, loitering here in the desolate remains of a former homestead only guaranteed a chance encounter with raiders or other forms of nightmarish stuff. Fading in and out of sleep, Marcus finally relinquished himself to the blissful sleep as Dogmeat snuggled closer to his human companion.

**********

Marcus woke up to someone nudging his leg with the toe of their boot. The sun was already past the noon mark, filtering its light through the mangled tree limbs outside. Marcus mumbled a response when the stranger gave another nudge. It was then he realized that Dogmeat wasn’t growling at the individual. Opening his eyes, Marcus looked over to where Dogmeat laid down for the night. The canine was swishing his tail in a leisurely manner and yawned in response to Marcus’ awareness.

“General?” The voice was barely recognizable. It sounded muffled by either a scarf or face mask. Marcus peered up at the figure standing over him.

“What took you so long?” Marcus chuckled until he started coughing.

Preston knelt next to Marcus producing a canteen of purified water. “Here.”

Marcus accepted the canteen and took a few swigs of water before replacing the cap and handing it back to Preston. “Thanks, Preston.”

“Anytime, General.”

“How exactly did you find me?” Marcus asked as he winced when moving the damaged thigh.

Preston shrugged off a satchel and pulled out a stimpak. “You can thank your four-legged companion. I was patrolling not far from here when Dogmeat crossed my path. He was quite determined that I follow him.”

Marcus glanced over at Dogmeat, who wagged his tail stirring up the dust along the way. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” As Marcus reached over to pat Dogmeat on the head, Preston took the opportunity to stab the stimpak into Marcus’ damaged thigh. “Son of a…” Marcus snarled through gritted teeth.

“You’re stubborn as is. Would have tried walking back to Sanctuary on that leg regardless if you had a stimpak or not,” Preston removed the stimpak and tossed it away, “I just did you a favor.”

Marcus could feel the stimpak working as it dulled the searing pain. Preston seemed to of been properly prepared than Marcus as he produced a strip of gauze and began bandaging up the thigh. “We’ll have to get you back to Sanctuary so you can rest up.”

“I think I can manage,” Marcus began standing up but crumpled back onto the floor, “Or not.”

“Right,” Preston stood up and held out his hand helping Marcus off the ground, “Easy now. Don’t need you falling and hitting your head. I used the last of my gauze on your leg.”

“You’re a nuisance, but damned if you’re not a good friend, Preston,” Marcus limped over to retrieve his gear before exiting the semi-demolished home. With the assistance from Preston, the small group began their trek back to Sanctuary. Marcus couldn’t wait to feel the comfort of bed again after sleeping on the hard ground for weeks on end. And once he fully recovered from his injuries, he was going to spend a day or two drinking a few bottles of Gwinnett Lager, he had stashed at his old home while lounging on that battered red sofa without a care in the world. After all, he deserved to unwind every so often after braving the bullshit of this world.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[[ - Chapter Updated: 5-5-2017 - ]]]
> 
> Drugs are bad, m'kay.

Marcus moved along the ramparts of the Castle writing down necessary equipment for maintaining the barricades and infrastructures. The central hub for the Minutemen was nestled within the Castle, and Marcus saw to the defenses of the place. He wasn’t too keen on the title of general, and shortly after establishing the Castle for the Minutemen, he tried appointing Ronnie Shaw as the new general. She rejected the position immediately and reassured him he was more than capable of restoring the Minutemen’s foothold in the Commonwealth.

After completing the list of essentials for the Castle, Marcus tucked the sheet of paper in the pocket of his cargo pants. He descended the ladder to the lower section of the Castle to search for Ronnie Shaw. He eventually found her sampling a bottle of Amontillado wine in the dining hall.

“They weren’t wrong about how the taste of wine improves over time,” she held the bottle out for Marcus.

“I’m more of a beer type of guy,” Marcus said as he sat across from her.

“Fair enough,” Ronnie placed the bottle down and turned her attention to Marcus, “I’m a bit surprised you made the voyage to the Castle shortly after Preston dragged your half-dead ass back to Sanctuary.”

“What can I say, I’m a man of many surprises.”

“There’s that snarky attitude of yours again," Ronnie narrowed her eyes at Marcus, “One of these days it’s going to get you killed.”

“The Devil’s not done with me yet,” Marcus pulled out the slip of paper and slid it across the table towards Ronnie, “Here’s what you need to repair some of the damages.”

Ronnie unfolded the paper and scanned the list before setting it on the table, "I'll send out some of the Minutemen to gather the items as soon as possible."

Marcus gave a brief nod while standing up to leave the dining hall.

“Don’t go getting yourself killed, General.”

Marcus glanced back at Ronnie Shaw, “Why do you say that?”

“The Commonwealth still needs you, and we’ve got the Institute to deal with yet. I’ll be damned if our general gets himself killed before the real war starts.”

“I’ve seen enough wars in my lifetime. They're all the same bullshit.”

Shouldering his gear, Marcus set off from the Castle towards Bunker Hill with Dogmeat in tow. He would have to purchase some additional supplies before making his way back to Sanctuary. As they traveled along the road, Dogmeat investigated every object of curiosity. When the canine’s interests were satisfied, he’d bounce back to Marcus. Marcus became fond of the German Shepherd and took his canine companion on his travels through the Commonwealth.

By the time they reached Bunker Hill, it was already nightfall. Knowing the dangers of the barren wasteland after the sun sets, Marcus decided to rest for the night. As he laid down, Dogmeat padded over, spun around a few times, until plopping down next Marcus. Dogmeat let out a little grunt as he started drifting off to sleep.

**********

The moment dawn set across the sky, Marcus and Dogmeat were back on the road. They encountered a few merchants and wild mongrels along the way, but other than that they had little excitement on the travel to Sanctuary.

The bridge leading into Sanctuary showed some minor repairs. If Marcus had to guess, Sturges was attempting to reconstruct the entire bridge. The guy was always renovating the place every time Marcus stopped through. At least the homes look less shabby now with their patched-up roofs and solid walls. Sanctuary began looking a bit more like home for Marcus, and sometimes he contemplated if he wanted to start a new life here.

Crossing the bridge, he greeted Trashcan Carla, who briefly asked about troubles on the road before departing. He could already hear Sturges hammering away atop of one of the houses patching up holes. And, of course, the constant bickering between Marcy and Jun Long. He still questioned how those two tolerated one another.

Marcus found his home the same as he left it several days ago. Tossing his bag on the floor, he slumped onto the couch exhausted. He closed his eyes hoping to relax for a bit. Thankfully it didn’t take Marcus long until he was fast asleep.

The dream evolved into a nightmare of pure torment. The once beautiful world festered into a distorted representation of the now current land. Tall skyscrapers deteriorated into dust as piles of human remains pooled around him. Marcus felt the dread of drowning under the corpses until he heard the distant calling of his name. It was incoherent at first, but as he clambered up from the crater of death, he witnessed the nuclear tragedy engulfing everything as burning flesh, dissolving metal, and the screams begging God for forgiveness swirled around him.

He could feel his own flesh sizzling, peeling from his bones. Staring at the palms of his hands, he watched in horror as they began turning into ashes. Marcus couldn't scream. His throat felt constricted, but everything hurt, ached, burnt...

Marcus woke up to Preston shaking him while calling his name. Others were standing nearby, but their faces were too fuzzy for him to identify. He sat up the moment Preston stepped away.

“You were screaming in your sleep again, kid,” Mama Murphy came over to sit down next to Marcus, “Another nightmare?”

“You could say that,” Marcus applied pressure to his temples to help alleviate a throbbing migraine, “It’s getting worse, unfortunately.”

“No one said reliving past nightmares would get better,” Mama Murphy laid a container of Jet down on the coffee table, “This’ll help…”

“Not this again,” Preston snatched up the substance before Mama Murphy had time to protest, “You’re not going to promote drug abuse here.”

“He needs it.”

“He needs help, but not through a drug-induced coma,” Preston snapped back.

Mama Murphy sighed and placed a reassuring hand on Marcus’ shoulder, “You’re strong. Whatever it is you’re going through, you’ll overcome it.” She stood up leaving Marcus in the care of Preston as the others filtered out of the home. Once the door closed behind her, Preston shook his head and began stomping back and forth.

“You’re pacing again,” Marcus quipped.

“Mama Murphy was supposed to be clean from drug usage,” he came to a halt, staring out the living room window, “I don’t know how she got her hands on this, but it’s not the salvation you’re looking for.”

“Yes, mother.”

Preston scowled at Marcus, “This isn’t a joke.”

Marcus sighed heavily running the palm of his hands down his face, “I just need some fresh air and time to think.”

“Whatever you say, General,” Preston headed for the front door, but hesitated the moment he reached for the doorknob, “Just don’t do anything stupid.” He waited for a few seconds until leaving Marcus to his thoughts.

Marcus remained on the couch, lost in thought. He could feel his sanity slip away a little each day, and it’s not like there were counselors with a Ph.D. thriving to this very day seeking clientele. Battling his inner demon only brought pain and misery to those around him. It was draining his mentality, causing these severe migraines, and made him question reality. The only _true_ question was, which one would be the victor in the end. The demon or him?

**********

The downpour drenched the land and with its radiation-tainted rain came the thundering crackles of electricity. Marcus took up shelter in a rundown shack off the main road to Diamond City. Not wanting to be caught up in the radiation storm, he opted against traveling to the ‘Big Green Jewel’ for now. He was two-thirds through his second cigarette when Dogmeat padded over and nudged Marcus’ elbow.

“What’s the matter, boy?” Marcus patted the German Shepherds head while inhaling another dose of nicotine. Dogmeat perked his ears up in interest when Marcus rolled the cigarette between his fingers crushing the embers before tossing it out into the rain. “Hope this damn storm won’t last till nightfall.” Dogmeat placed his head on Marcus’ forearm and gazed with those curious eyes of his.

“Don’t worry. We’ll make it to Diamond City. I’m sure Ellie has some dog treats set aside just for you,” he said scratching behind one of Dogmeat’s ears. The canine responded by swishing his tail in excitement.

For the time being, they waited out the storm in that little shack for the next two hours. As the radiated thunderstorm moved on, Marcus crushed another cigarette butt under his boot before gathering up the equipment. Dogmeat was already sniffing about by the time Marcus was prepared to head out for Diamond City. Puddles of water still dotted the road as the two worked their way around rusted piles of vehicles and debris.

Within the hour, they were nearing the entrance to Diamond City. The security still patrolled the outskirts of the ‘Big Green Jewel,' and would nod briefly at Marcus as he passed by. Dogmeat remained by Marcus’ side, his tongue dangling to the side as he kept trotting along. The gate was already raised by the time Marcus and Dogmeat emerged from around the corner. Several of the citizens and merchants mingled about discussing topics of interests with one another as security guards watched from afar.

Marcus had no difficulty entering the city when he approached the gate. The guard grunted and told him he could proceed on in before taking another drag off his cigarette. They continued to maneuver through the crowd until they reached their destination. The neon light was still there buzzing as usual. Marcus couldn’t remember how many times he told Nick Valentine how cheesy the damn sign was for a detective agency. Of course, Nick Valentine always rolled those synth eyes of his just before admitting Marcus was right, but it brought in cases, and that was good enough for Nick.

The moment Marcus pushed open the door to Valentine Detective Agency, Dogmeat bounded in eagerly searching for the dog treats Ellie keeps hidden in the office. After sniffing around the filing cabinets, Dogmeat expanded his search to the desks. Ellie emerged from the back and frowned at the mischievous canine.

“You’re not going to find those treats there, you rascal,” she folded her arms as Dogmeat attempted his puppy dog eyes. Ellie sighed and walked over to a basket atop of the shelf and pulled out a few dog treats. Dogmeat began wagging his tail excitedly as she placed the treats on the ground. “Alright, here you go.” Dogmeat was already relishing the dog treats when Ellie noticed Marcus.

“Everything okay?” she asked, arching and eyebrow.

“Just tired.”

“That’s a lie,” she sat down behind her desk and rifled through some paperwork, “Nick isn’t here, but he should be back in the next hour or two.”

“Out on a mission?”

“Suppose you could say that,” she set the stack of papers down before folding her arms, “Something’s bothering you, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I’m hoping Nick could answer some question for me when he gets back,” Marcus sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk, placing his bag nearby.

“How’s your head?”

There was no point trying to evade the question, so Marcus explained the nightmare he had a few days ago, the constant plague of migraines, and the internal conflict within his head. Ellie listened without interruption as Marcus provided the details. By the time he finished, Dogmeat was curled up by Marcus’ feet licking his paws.

Ellie exhaled slowly as she rolled the information through her mind, “I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but I’m here if you ever need someone to talk to.”

“Thanks,” Marcus smiled slightly, “But this is something I’ve got to face alone.”

Ellie only furrowed her eyebrows in irritation instead of commenting about Marcus’ stubborn nature. If there was one thing Marcus appreciated the most about Ellie, it was her perfect timing when knowing to be professional and when to be a friend willing to listen to all the bullshit from Marcus without judgment. A similar trait she shared with his late wife, may she rest in peace. The remainder of their conversation involved the dislike towards Mayor McDonough and random news regarding the Commonwealth, as they waited for the detective to return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Five Finger Death Punch + Writing = My Fallout 4 fanfic.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter. Might add more later.

The feral ghoul's internal organs left a putrid stench as it lay exposed outside the abdominal cavity. The tattered and faded pink dress was soaked by the greenish bodily fluid eking out of every orifice. Marcus was disgusted. Not because of the decaying corpse lying before him, but because of how revolting and corrupted humanity have become since the nuclear warfare.

Barbaric groups of raiders roaming the barren wasteland while cannibalistic mutants made trophies out of their fresh kills. This wasn’t the world Marcus was willing to sacrifice his life for over 200 years ago. And, as ironic as it may seem, he’s stuck in this fucked up world trying to save the little bit of humanity that still exists.

Some nights Marcus would lie awake listening to the strange world around him. Other nights he would vomit up the liquor he’d consume as a method to drown out the demon. It would slither its way from the back of his mind, burrow talons into his perception and whisper vile words challenging his rational thoughts.

_They don’t care about you. No one does. They’ll only betray you. Hurt you. You have no friends. Not in this world or the next._

Some days it’s easier to ignore the demon. Those he considered good days in comparison to the bad days, which he relied heavily on liquor just to silent the vindictive whispers within his head. A temporary fix to his fucked-up mind. No matter how many times he tried to imagine the world before the chaos, he would still wake up to the apocalyptic world and tainted land he once called home. Nearly every day he would trudge across the Commonwealth searching for past familiarities. Anything to show him there’s still some good left in this world. But even those were days far from few and in between.

Marcus could hear the sluggish footsteps of feral ghouls further down the path. And yet, his eyes remained transfixed upon the pink dressed ghoul. Did he know her from 200 years ago? Did she have anyone she once called family? Marcus stood over the corpse with bated breath. He was aware that it would only be a matter of time until the demon emerged from its slumber, but he was hoping to escape further from civilization by then. Leaving Dogmeat in Ellie’s care was probably wise just in case too.

The shambling footsteps were closer now.

_I wonder what her name was._

High-pitched wails echoed all around him. The footsteps were drawing closer, and he could smell the rotting stench emitted from the other ghouls. Clutching the .44 pistol in his right hand, he remained frozen in place. Marcus didn’t flinch when a feral ghoul clutched at an arm, yanking him around, and began sinking its decaying teeth into his skin. He felt no remorse as he pulled the trigger of the .44 emptying a round into the feral ghoul's heads. Its body slumped to the ground expelling its brain matter on the concrete.

Another feral ghoul shrieked and rushed towards him. He aimed the .44, pulled the trigger, and sneered when the feral ghoul tumbled to the ground where it lay lifeless. Marcus could hear the howling from more of them as he thrust a combat knife into the skull of another. Several more of the creatures soon joined the fray as they volleyed through the carnage to get to Marcus. He kicked in the chest of one sending it falling backward into the others and pivoted in time to avoid gnashing teeth. Slamming an elbow into the face of a feral ghoul sent a spray of irradiated blood across Marcus’ face, but he barely noticed the taste of the vile liquid as he continues slashing away.

In the midst of his most recent kill, Marcus felt the body of a feral ghoul slam into him, sending both of them over the edge of the bridge plummeting to the concrete down below.

The sensation of air knocked out of his lungs sent a sharp, jolting pain across his chest. Breathing seemed rattled, uneven temporarily. Marcus lied there, staring up into the graying skies as agony swept through his entire body. The feral ghoul that fell with him was impaled upon a metal rod. It continued howling as its body slowly slid further down. Gore oozed from its punctured chest leaving a trail of the irradiated blood.

Marcus craned his neck slightly, and for the briefest of moments, the dying ghoul's eyes met his.

_Was there a thread of humanity behind those eyes? Does it remember being human?_

The feral ghoul was placid as if accepting its fate, and yet it began reaching out towards him. Marcus was perplexed by the sudden change in the creature’s manners, but as he tried sitting up, a shot rang out erupting the feral ghouls head into a spray of blood, bone, and brain matter. Marcus froze staring at the limp body of the creature.

A Brotherhood of Steel patrol was working their way through the remainder of the feral ghouls as a medic jogged over to Marcus’ position. It was a young female, her blonde hair falling loosely from a ponytail as clumps of it plastered to her sweat and blood speckled face, “Sir, are you alright?”

Marcus sat up, ignoring the aching protest of his body, “I’ll be fine.”

“You should probably have that bite mark looked at,” the medic nodded to the deep punctures dotting his left arm, “I can try sterilizing it…”

“No. Save the supplies for your crew. I can seek medical attention in Diamond City,” Marcus stood up as the remainder of the patrol rejoined the medic.

“Going to be okay walking back to Diamond City?” the Knight Captain asked as he approached Marcus.

“I’ve fared worse than this.”

“Then we’ll leave you to it. Be careful out there,” the Knight Captain glanced over to the dead ghoul, “Those things don’t give a shit if you’re human or not. The more you kill, the better.” He turned leading the patrol off as Marcus gazed at the feral ghoul.

They’re probably right, Marcus thought to himself. He found the .44 pistol not far from him and holstered it before turning towards Diamond City. He hesitated. After a few minutes of contemplation, Marcus veered away from the city and began his trek to Goodneighbor instead. The last thing he wanted to deal with was the spark of hysteria from the sheltered populace of Diamond City when he strolled in with a feral ghoul bit mark to the arm. If anyone was qualified enough to dress his wounds without prejudice, it was Doctor Amari.

“She’s going to be pissed,” Marcus mumbled.

**********

“I’m a scientist. I help people _relive_ memories. Not bandage them up,” Doctor Amari finished wrapping the fabric around the cleansed mark where the feral ghoul bit Marcus.

“You’re more charming than Doctor Sun in Diamond City,” Marcus retorted.

“Not if you keep this up,” Doctor Amari stepped back to analyze her handiwork, “You’ll find out I’m five times less charming if you continue lugging your battered body back here for me to fix up.”

“Less charming? Heh. That’s not your style.”

Doctor Amari furrowed her eyebrows and jabbed a finger against the bandaged wound.

“What the hell?” Marcus snarled lifting his arm away from Doctor Amari’s reach.

She grinned, “You’ll be fine. Now then, I’m sure you’ve got things to do. Just steer clear of those wanting to either kill or eat you.”

“Easier said than done, Doc,” Marcus got up from the chair, moving the bandaged arm around, “You still did an excellent job on this. You sure about not fixing people up?”

Chuckling, Doctor Amari walked back to her desk, “Oh, shush, and get out of here.”

Marcus stepped out into the street of Goodneighbor and withdrew the crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He lit a cigarette and took a few drags off it, listening to the buzzing sound of the Memory Den neon light over the entrance. The homeless and societal rejects hovered near their makeshift shelters casting wary gazes at Marcus. He was still a stranger in the eyes of Goodneighbor. Something he didn’t expect to change anytime soon despite his friendship with John Hancock, the proclaimed mayor of Goodneighbor.

Crushing the cigarette butt with his boot, Marcus decided it was time to retrieve his gear and four-legged companion in Diamond City. Ellie was probably spoiling Dogmeat with all the treats she had hidden in the office.

There was one concern lingering on Marcus’ mind. The brawl with the feral ghouls seems to of tapered the demonic voice for the time being. And yet, he was hoping this wouldn’t lead to something more alarming in the future. But, perhaps now he’ll be lucky enough to get some well-deserved sleep without the plaguing nightmares. Maybe.


	4. Chapter 4

Dogmeat greeted Marcus as he walked through the door to the detective’s office. “Hey, boy,” he bent down to pet the German Shepherd, as Ellie got up from her desk.

“Where have you been?” she asked glowering at him.

“I… had to go take care of some things.”

“For an entire day?” she fumed, “I’ve been worried sick when you never returned.”

Marcus shrugged, “I lost track of time.”

Ellie’s eyes flicked to the bandaged arm as Marcus stood up. Quirking an eyebrow, she studied it before returning her gaze back to Marcus, “What happened?”

He held the arm out slightly, contemplating on how to respond, “I got into a brawl with a few feral ghouls.”

“Are you crazy?” Ellie snapped, “Is this what you had to go take care of? Brawling with a bunch of feral ghouls?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?” she folded her arms in annoyance.

“It’s… complicated,” Marcus went to snatch up the bag he left behind the other day, attempting to avoid discussing the matter any further. Ellie only shook her head in disappointment when Marcus refused to elaborate.

“Marcus, you can’t keep doing this to yourself,” she walked over helping Marcus situate the backpack over his shoulders, “One of these days you’re going to get yourself into a situation where you can’t get out of.”

“That sounds more like Nick,” Marcus jested.

Ellie chuckled slightly, “To be honest, you both fit the profile. I’m just the unfortunate one having to stress over both of your lives.”

Marcus turned to look at her, “No one said you had to worry about me.”

“No one said I had to put up with your bullshit, and yet here we are,” she smirked as she retrieved a small bag from her desk and handed it to Marcus, “These treats are for Dogmeat since _he_ is a proper gentleman. Unlike _you_.”

“Ouch. I’ll remember that next time,” Marcus opened the door, and Dogmeat trotted out to sniff along the wall.

“Be careful from now on,” Ellie reminded him once again as the duo walked out. Marcus shot her a smile as he walked around the corner and out of sight. Dogmeat trailed ahead of him, ears rotating to capture the sounds of the city, as the tail turned back and forth like a metronome instrument. In a way, Marcus felt accountable for all the stress he places on his friends, but at the same time, he feels like it’s his burden to deal with the problems in his life.

**********

Marcus had the rifle dismantled upon the table for repairs and modifications. It was an attempt to keep his mind occupied instead of fixating on the persistent whispers looming in the back of his thoughts. The past few days Marcus assisted the settlers of Sanctuary to mend fences, toil the land for crops, and build more suitable defenses. It was the first step of recovery after his near-death experience at the hands of feral ghouls.

 

He planned on dying that day. A pathetic attempt at suicide. He didn’t want Ellie, or anyone else, to know of his intentions when he left Dogmeat in her care. Armed with only a pistol, he set out into the wasteland knowing he wasn’t coming back. That was until the feral ghoul in a tattered pink dress crossed his path. Marcus watched as the feral ghoul struggled walking on a damaged leg. Several bullet holes dotted its entire body, and yet the creature was determined to keep going.

In a way, Marcus felt pity for the feral ghoul as it continued staggering across the ground. It was used as a target most likely for pure entertainment. He assumed Gunners had their hands in it, but in this world, anything goes. The feral ghoul approached the edge of the roadway, temporarily stopping as if it was aware of the long drop to the ground below. It pivoted and began its trek towards Marcus. Removing the .44 from the holster, Marcus remained poised waiting for the feral ghoul to notice his presence.

Instead, it wobbled towards him, its eyes cast down on the ground. As the distance shortened between the two, the feral ghoul abruptly stopped. The ragged pink dress billowed slightly against the faint wind as silence enclosed around the two. Marcus held his breath, the .44 firmly gripped in hand, expecting the creature to sprint towards him suddenly. After what felt like an eternity, the feral ghoul lifted its eyes, teetering slightly against the caress of the wind.

It was at that moment Marcus questioned everything about this morbid world as the creature spoke to him.

“Kill. Me,” it managed to say through a shattered and decaying mouth.

Marcus stood there dumbfounded. _Did it just speak to me?_

The feral ghoul must have recognized Marcus’ confusion across his face as it once again repeated itself, “Kill. Me.”

“Why?”

“Want. To. Die,” it mustered a response, “Please.”

The two gazed at one another in silence. Marcus suddenly recalled the pistol still gripped in his hand and glimpsed down at it, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Marcus felt his chest tightened as he raised the pistol towards the feral ghoul. His hand was trembling enough that he had to steady his breathing before he could retry aiming again. As he aimed the pistol, he managed to keep his hands from shaking.

“I’m sorry,” he said squeezing the trigger. The bullet pierced the right eye of the feral ghoul and exited the back of the cranium, sending splatters of blood into the wind. The body collapsed to the ground. Marcus remained still, gawking at the corpse. _I thought feral ghouls were incapable of communication. That their brains were rotten. This doesn’t make sense._ He replayed those thoughts over and over in his head as he ignored the sudden quivering of his hand. He dropped the hand to his side, closed his eyes and listened to the sound of his heartbeat.

 _I can’t do this._ He already took the life of someone today. The bullet that was meant for him assisted in the wish of another. Perhaps today wasn’t his day to die after all. Except he didn’t comprehend that the gunshot would signal a group of feral ghouls to his location.

 

“Shit!” Marcus snatched up his hand examining the small cut across the palm. He was fitting the rifle back together at the workbench when he worked the handguard too close to the saw blade. Marcus frowned as bits of blood began pooling. The cut wasn’t deep, but it stung enough for him to curse a few times as he wrapped a piece of fabric around it. Tugging the ends into a knot, Marcus slumped into a recliner rubbing the back of his neck. He spent the entire day hovering over the workbench adjusting, molding, and piecing the rifle together.

The faint hum of the nearby generators provided electricity to the street lamps as they lit up along the streets, indicating that it was evening. Several of the settlers were heading back to their residence when Marcus stepped out of the maintenance shop. He caught sight of Mama Murphy relaxing near a campfire telling a story to a congregation of children who listened intensely. Marcus smiled as she detailed the dangerous journey across the Commonwealth with every type of monstrosity nipping at her heels. The children gasped, eyes filled with curiosity, the moment she mentioned the deadly perils of a Deathclaw ensnaring her in its grip.

“How did you survive, Mama Murphy?” one of the children asked.

“Ah. I hit that Deathclaw over the head with nothing but a crowbar,” Mama Murphy laughed.

“What happened next?” “Tell us!” the children started asking questions non-stop until Mama Murphy held up her hand.

“That’s a story for another day.”

The children groaned in disappointment, “Can’t you tell us now? Please!”

Mama Murphy chuckled, “You’ll miss dinner if I do.”

“That’s ok. We want to hear the rest of the story!”

“We’ll finish the story tomorrow night. Now hurry off to dinner,” Mama Murphy hugged some of the children before they all raced off home.

“Interesting story, Mama Murphy,” Marcus said as he approached the elderly woman.

“The children seem to love it,” she gestured to a chair for Marcus while offering him a cup of tea. Accepting the cup, Marcus sat down in a chair next to Mama Murphy, “How are you fairing, Marcus?”

“I’ve got a headache, but haven’t had a beer for a few days now. I guess that’s better than nothing,” Marcus answered sipping the tea.

“And the whispering demon?”

“Seems to be dormant for the time being.”

Mama Murphy only nodded as she drank her tea.

“And you?” Marcus asked once she finished.

“I haven’t used any drugs for a few days now if that’s what you’re asking about,” Mama Murphy set her cup down and looked at Marcus, “I suppose we both are fighting against addiction.”

Marcus grinned, “Thanks to Preston.”

“He means well and has good intentions. After all he’s been through getting us here,” Mama Murphy gravitated her eyes towards the crackling fire, “There’s been so much death. Friends. Family. Have you visited the resting place of Nora lately?”

Marcus didn’t respond for several seconds but stared into the fire watching the embers glow, “I can’t.”

“Death is hard to accept,” Mama Murphy stood up and placed a comforting hand on Marcus’ shoulder, “No one will fault you for handling it at your own pace.”

“I know,” Marcus said more to himself than to anyone else.

He remained there by the campfire for another hour before returning to his pre-war home. For the first time after months of traveling the wasteland, Marcus slept soundly. No nightmares, no demon whispering in his ear. He felt as though his life was finally turning around and improving for the better. The journey will be difficult, but if it meant that Marcus had a chance of success against the demon, it was worth it. As Marcus dozed quietly, Dogmeat perked up his ears to the distant sound of propellers echoing across the land. Padding over to the bedroom window, Dogmeat watched the far-away lights flicker against the night sky before gravitating towards the slumbering town of Sanctuary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted the feral ghoul's communication to be more understandable than guttural (as in the video games). Made the writing process a bit more simple.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought Fort Strong mission was too short, so I developed my own later addition of BoS vs. Super Mutants when acquiring pre-war technology. And I also decided to introduce the West Coast/Midwest variation of the super mutants. Because, why not?

Marcus awakened in time to hear the commotion spread across Sanctuary to the tune of decelerating rotor blades. Struggling to get his bearing as sleep receded from the mind, he noticed Dogmeat pawing frantically at the bedroom door, whining in discontent for being barricaded in. Lights drifted across the makeshift curtains that hung over the windows providing some light into the bedroom. Marcus snatched up the .44 pistol as shadows ran past his bedroom window.

He crept towards the door and attempted to compose the anxious German Shepherd, “Calm down, buddy. Everything’s going to be fine.” Dogmeat ceased raking his claws at the wooden door as inaudible voices drifted from outside. Marcus approached the window pulling the curtain aside slightly to look outside. The object emitting the light was a standard military Vertibird that used the paved roadway for a landing zone. Three Brotherhood of Steel soldiers flanked the aircraft, keeping guard as a fourth one was spotted questioning Preston Garvey nearby. Several of the settlers were clustered together either out of curiosity or uneasiness as they watched from afar.

“Why’s the Brotherhood of Steel here?” Marcus didn’t like this. Any of it to be precise. He transitioned into the Brotherhood of Steel long before establishing the Castle for the Minutemen, but haven’t been seriously involved with their branch for a few weeks now. Not after Knight-Captain Cade gave him clearance for recovery after a mission. He was granted at least a month from active duty, which he spent in a chaotic bout with the damnable inner demon.

There seemed to be some disagreement between the soldier and Preston, for what Marcus couldn’t say. Whatever the damn reason the Brotherhood of Steel was here for, he was determined to find out. After pulling on his boots and telling Dogmeat to stay put, Marcus walked out of his house towards the two arguing pairs. Preston’s face was distorted into annoyance while conversing with the soldier, but gradually lessened when he noticed Marcus approaching. The soldier, apparently, a Knight-Captain himself, glanced back towards Marcus and frowned.

_And here we go._

“General,” Preston began addressing him.

“ _Knight_ Gualtiero, _Minuteman_ ,” the Knight-Captain corrected Preston, his voice laced with disdain. Preston’s eyebrows crinkled disapprovingly at the insult, but he remained silent regardless. The Knight-Captain, a man ten years Marcus’ senior with already graying hair, turned his full attention upon Marcus, “You’re a difficult man to track down.”

“That was my intention,” Marcus made it clear that he wasn’t fond of the intrusion upon Sanctuary by snubbing the man of his title when addressed. An act that earned a scowl from the Knight-Captain himself.

“You’ve been ordered to report back to the Prydwen,” the Knight-Captain sneered when Marcus appeared bothered by the directive issued to him.

“I’ve been granted a month’s leave…”

“Not anymore. You’re on active duty starting immediately, _soldier_. Report to Proctor Quinlan,” the Knight-Captain began walking towards the Vertibird, but glanced back at Marcus, “And it’s Knight-Captain Harrison, in case you’ve forgotten. I’ll be sure to exclude your lack of a military code of conduct from my reports this time.”

The Brotherhood of Steel soldiers loaded back into the Vertibird as its engine revved for the return to the Prydwen. The rotor blades were positioned for departure as dust and debris swirled around the crowd of Sanctuary settlers. Preston stood next to Marcus as they both observed the Vertibird’s ascension into the night air, “What an asshole.”

Marcus chuckled, “Don’t have to tell me twice. They’re not exactly the friendliest bunch.”

“You’re not planning on returning to the Brotherhood of Steel, are you?” Preston arched an eyebrow at Marcus half expecting the General to decline the invitation to the Prydwen.

“I’d rather not sour any relations with them for now,” Marcus gave one final glance at the departing Vertibird before returning to his home to prepare for the trip back to the Boston Airport, Brotherhood of Steel’s primary operating base in the Commonwealth. Sending a Knight-Captain and small unit of soldiers in search of Marcus could only indicate a major deployment somewhere if they recall everyone back to the airport. _They haven’t discovered the whereabouts of the Institute, have they?_ Marcus stopped amid his preparation as anxiety coursed through him. _Shit!_

**********

The Boston Airport was abundant with Brotherhood of Steel soldiers when Marcus arrived. Initiates and scribes were constantly on the move gathering equipment while Lancers lingered near the Vertibirds’ overseeing maintenance. Marcus was surprised by how organized the Brotherhood of Steel was as they shuffled around the Boston Airport to finalize preparations. Proctor Ingram was issuing out instructions to several soldiers when she caught sight of Marcus entering the main building.

“Knight Gualtiero,” she greeted him, “I guess you just arrived at the sound of disarray and chaos?”

“You could say that.”

“We weren’t provided with a reasonable amount of time to prepare,” Proctor Ingram appeared exasperated as soldiers scuttled around her.

“Any details as to why they called everyone back to the Boston Airport?” Marcus asked after a scribe handed Proctor Ingram some files and left.

“Only the bare minimum,” she began thumbing through the files awkwardly.

“Is it the Institute?”

“Doubtful. We’re still trying to discover their location,” she gave up reviewing the files with the usage of the power armor limbs, “If you need the full report, I would head up to the Prydwen and enquire further with Proctor Quinlan.”

Marcus bid Proctor Ingram farewell before hopping onto one of the Vertibird’s inbound for the Prydwen. If Proctor Quinlan was the person to report to, no doubt it involved his expertise. He encountered Knight-Captain Harrison in Proctor Quinlan’s office, who seemed to loathe the idea of Marcus’ presence.

“Ah. Knight Gualtiero. I was wondering when you would arrive,” Proctor Quinlan was already examining stacks of paperwork to bother looking up, “I presume you’re here for the briefing?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’ve managed to locate a large surplus of military property on the outskirts of the Commonwealth. Only a few recon teams have been dispatched to the location until recently. Those stationed at the temporary camp have encountered heavy resistance from abominations.”

Marcus was confused, “Abominations?”

“Super mutants,” Knight-Captain Harrison answered.

“Yes, it seems these super mutants have convened into an army, which is interesting if not ominous,” Proctor Quinlan adjusted his glasses as he looked at Marcus, “The Intel hidden within the so-called fortress of theirs could benefit the Brotherhood of Steel significantly.”

“Granted if we can push through the super mutant’s defenses,” Knight-Captain Harrison added.

“Where exactly do I come into this?” Marcus asked somewhat apprehensive about the answer he was to receive.

“We’ll need you to go behind the monstrosities line of defenses,” Proctor Quinlan replied immediately.

“You’re sending me in on a stealth operation?”

“I believe your knowledge of pre-war military tactics could lead us to success,” Proctor Quinlan narrowed his eyes at Marcus, “You _did_ disclose your involvement in the armed forces when joined the Brotherhood of Steel, did you not?”

Marcus frowned but acknowledged Proctor Quinlan’s statement.

“Excellent. A Vertibird is preparing to leave for the base camp. Once you arrive, you’ll report directly to Paladin Griffin. He’ll brief you on the mission,” Proctor Quinlan once again fixed the position of his glasses before continuing, “Ad victoriam, Knight.”

**********

A young man sat across from Marcus as the Vertibird traveled towards the location where the Brotherhood of Steel established a base. He was obviously enthusiastic as he continued fiddling with his hands impatiently. The young soldier noticed Marcus observing him and promptly lowered his hands, “Sorry.”

Marcus only smiled as he stared out at the land below. The entire landscape was almost devoid of colors. A constant reminder of the Great War over two hundred years ago.

“I’m Initiate Bradford. Um… Louis Bradford. You must be Knight Gualtiero?”

Marcus arched an eyebrow, “How’d you guess?”

“I overheard them talking about the mission. They said your name a few times,” the young man dawdled, chewing at the bottom of his lip in contemplation, “You’ll be leading us into the battle, I take it?”

“That’s the plan.”

“I’ve… never been in an actual battle. Bar brawls but not battles,” Initiate Bradford started fiddling with his hands again, “Is it as dangerous as the others say?”

“I’m not going to sugarcoat it for you,” Marcus caught the young soldier’s eyes, “Chances are you’ll die out there. If you follow orders, your death could be prolonged. Or not.” The initiate stared wide-eyed as the reality of it all came crashing down on him.

“Two minutes until our destination,” the Vertibird pilot yelled back. The aircraft made a rotation around the camp, preparing to land on the designated landing zone.

As the Vertibird landed, Marcus patted Initiate Bradford on the shoulder, “Ad victoriam, as they always say.” He leaped out of the aircraft and headed towards the base camp in search of this so-called Paladin Griffin that’s in charge. Paladin Griffin was an older man, like Paladin Brandis, but taller and muscular in stature. His most distinguishing feature was the beak shaped nose crowning a full beard that, for some odd reason, Paladin Griffin braided. If Marcus didn’t know any better, he would have thought that Paladin Griffin stepped directly out of a book about Vikings.

Paladin Griffin had eyes the color of steel and just as cold as the metal itself. As Marcus approached, he could sense the Paladin scrutinizing him more out of caution than curiosity.

“Knight Gualtiero, sir. I’ve been sent here to report to you directly,” Marcus saluted.

“So, the bastards send me grunts and shit bags to fight against the super mutants,” Paladin Griffin spat at the ground.

“Excuse me?”

“Half of these shitheads can’t tell the difference between a barrel and the butt end of a rifle. I’ve lost more soldiers to these god damn mutants in two weeks than I have in a lifetime,” Paladin Griffin vented.

“That bad?”

Paladin Griffin held his hand out to specify the entire encampment, “We don’t have the proper damn equipment for a full-on battle. I requested more seasonal warriors to help this cause, but the son-o-bitches denied every one of my requests. Instead, they send me cannon fodder.”

“They pulled me from medical leave and dispatched me here. Proctor Quinlan…” Paladin Griffin spat again, wrinkling his eyebrows in disgust when Marcus mentioned Proctor Quinlan.

“Fuck Proctor Quinlan,” Paladin Griffin retorted, “He isn’t here every day watching these poor kids get butchered alive by the mutants.”

Marcus attempted to speak again hoping the older man would listen, “I have the experience he thought would be essential.”

“Experience,” Paladin Griffin scowled, “What kind of _experience_?”

“I’ve served in the U.S. military before the Great War.”

Paladin Griffin arched an eyebrow, “So, _you’re_ the vault dweller?”

“I take it you know of me?”

“Two-hundred-year-old popsicle here to save the day,” Paladin Griffin chuckled.

“Two hundred and forty-six, to be precise,” Marcus corrected him.

“And a sense of sarcasm to boot,” the old man grinned, “Perhaps you’re not so green like the rest of these lots. Knight Gualtiero, you say?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Follow me,” Paladin Griffin led Marcus through the base camp. Supplies from the Brotherhood of Steel were being unloaded from a transport Vertibird and further into the encampment, Marcus walked past a tent designated for medical treatment. Several injured and maimed soldiers were lying on cots being attended to by medics, who were constantly running about for more supplies. He overheard one of the medics question why the penicillin and sterilized gauze were still missing.

Not once did Marcus see any power armor or advanced military firepower within the base camp. Just a bunch of young men and women pledged to the Brotherhood of Steel cause and thrown to the super mutants as cattle. _They’re treating these kids as cannon fodder. Expendable assets._ Marcus felt his anger boil as he continued to follow Paladin Griffin across the camp.

Paladin Griffin entered a tent where a map of the Commonwealth was displayed across a wooden table. Combat knives were driven into each corner to prevent it from rolling back up. A squire was admiring it but glanced up at Marcus as he walked in behind the Paladin. “Go find Knight Ellsworth and tell him to round up the assigned soldiers for the front line,” Paladin Griffin patted the young boy on the head. The child smiled and saluted Paladin Griffin, “Yes, sir!” He hastily left the tent to deliver the order to Knight Ellsworth.

“That’s my grandson,” Paladin Griffin mentioned as he stepped around the table, “The boy’s intelligent and dedicated like his old grandfather. Stubborn though. That part he gets from his grandmother’s side of the family.” Marcus only nodded in acknowledgment.

“Right. To business,” Paladin Griffin pointed at a section of the map encircled by a red line, “That’s where the super mutants have held up. It’s an old military factory. Pre-war artifacts and Intel are further inside the building.” He traced his finger over to where several x’s were marked, “This is where the super mutants have established lookout posts. As you can see, they have the advantage over us. Higher ground.”

“Why not send in Vertibirds to deal with them?”

“Tried. The bastards just blow them out of the sky. We’ve lost almost fifteen Vertibirds to the super mutants. Maxson won’t send any more in. Says they’re _too valuable_ just to be used for target practice. Instead, the Vertibirds remain as transport vessels to and from here,” Paladin Griffin seemed annoyed by the decision but continued with the briefing, “Proctor Quinlan insists that the material inside the building are imperative. Unfortunately, we haven’t been able to break through the super mutant’s line of defense.”

“I thought super mutants were unintelligible. Incapable of fashioning together a massive army like this.”

“That’s what I thought too. It seems that Senior Scribe Neriah compiled some research and determined that _these_ super mutants have a higher IQ than their Commonwealth counterparts,” Paladin Griffin shrugged, “It’s all mumbo jumbo shit to me. Science isn’t my specialty. Killing things. _That’s_ my specialty.”

“So, we’re dealing with intelligent super mutants,” Marcus surmised.

“ _Not_ as intelligent as us humans,” Paladin Griffin corrected, “They’re still an abomination to humanity. If I had my way, I’d level the entire area with everything we have. Just to make sure none of those vile bastards survive. The Proctors cocooned within the Prydwen rejected my plan, of course.”

“About the artifacts and Intel,” Marcus approached the map to study the layout, “They have several lookout posts. Any information on weak points we could use to our advantage?”

“One,” Paladin Griffin placed his finger where a small village was drawn with pencil, “This village is about half a mile away. There are tunnels under the ground that lead to the super mutant’s base. It seems before the Great War, those tunnel entrances were covered by brick walls. The only ones who know of their existence today are us.”

Marcus rubbed the back of his neck, “We use the tunnels to sneak into the super mutant’s base of operation. Then what?”

“I already have squads willing to cause a distraction that’ll provide you coverage,” Paladin Griffin folded his arms analyzing Marcus, “You’re going to have to use stealth for this mission, Knight Gualtiero. It may be out of your expertise, but this is our only shot at getting the pre-war military items before the super mutants learn of its existence.”

“Great. How many will be under my command?”

“Eight. Five initiates, two scribes, and a medic. Can’t have a whole platoon of Brotherhood of Steel soldiers accessing the tunnels all at once. No, we’re keeping it small and simple. Less of annoyance and more practical,” Paladin Griffin said, “You’ll be going in without power armor, Knight Gualtiero. Best you equip yourself with top-quality combat armor and firearms.”

“Don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“Unfortunately, you don’t,” Paladin Griffin moved towards the tent exit, “I’ll introduce you to the one’s under your command during this mission.”

Stepping out, Marcus noticed Initiate Bradford standing with seven other soldiers, who all turned their attention to Paladin Griffin and him.

“Initiates. Scribes. This is Knight Gualtiero who will be leading you on the solo mission to infiltrate the super mutants main base. You’ll be under his command for the duration of the mission. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” The soldiers immediately saluted Paladin Griffin.

“Good,” the Paladin turned towards Marcus, “Ad victoriam, Knight Gualtiero.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to chop the entire BoS vs. Super Mutant story into two chapters. I'll upload the other portion here shortly.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still in the process of editing this chapter. So, please keep that in mind while reading this very...very long chapter.

Marcus led the small group through the tunnels. Paladin Griffin wasn’t wrong about the size of the tunnels. Wearing power armor would be difficult for maneuvering capabilities, let alone creating more sound than is necessary. Nearing the end of the tunnel, Marcus encountered the brick wall he was informed about. There would have been only one layer of bricks, which could be easily knocked down with a sledgehammer, but that wasn’t the case. Portions of the brick wall were already crumbling from years of neglect.

“Leave the sledgehammer,” Marcus instructed Initiate McPherson, a man a few years younger than him, “No need carrying unnecessary weight from here on out.” Initiate McPherson set the sledgehammer down on the ground as Marcus pried several of the bricks free. With enough room for them to slip through the brick wall, they made their way upwards to the surface. Marcus started noticing similarities between other military bunkers and this place. He wouldn’t be surprised that it was a military bunker they were navigating around in.

It took roughly an hour of silent trekking until they neared the surface exit of the building. Initiate Russell scanned the outside area signaling that the coast was clear. As the young female scribe, Regina Ortega, started opening the steel door, Marcus quickly stopped her and pointed at a fragmentation grenade attached to the doorway. He quickly disarmed the trap, scanned for any more, before giving her permission to open the door.

They filtered out of the military bunker one at a time and sought cover behind a mound of dirt. It was silent. Too silent.

“Where're all the super mutants?” Initiate Bradford whispered.

“Don’t know,” he studied the area for any signs of movement. Nothing, “This doesn’t bode well.” He spotted the large military building further inwards. It appeared to be some sort of research center under the management of the U.S. military before the Great War. Now it was a decrepit reminder of human civilization over two hundred years ago.

“Orders, Knight Gualtiero?” Both Russell and McPherson kept visual of the area while Scribe Ortega was scribbling down notes on a pad of paper.

“Our priority is to secure the military information inside that research center,” Marcus nodded towards the building, “Stay low, stay quiet, and follow my lead.”

“How long do we have until the front line breaches the super mutants line of defense for distraction?” Initiate Montgomery, the oldest of the squad mates asked.

Marcus squinted down at the mechanical watch he slapped onto his right wrist shortly after arriving at the Brotherhood of Steel base camp, “Paladin Griffin gave us three hours. We’ve already used up an hour navigating through the military bunker. Approximately two hours remain.”

“We better hurry then, Knight Gualtiero,” Montgomery said shortly afterward.

“Agreed. Let’s go,” Marcus hugged the defense wall while lying low. His eyes casting about the area for any signs of the super mutants. Uneasiness crept through his mind the further they traveled into the stronghold. _Where the hell is all the super mutants?_

Both Initiate Montgomery and Russell maintained guard as the group neared the door to the research center. Scribe Young positioned himself near the door waiting patiently as the younger scribe proceeded to unlock it. She smiled triumphantly as she slowly inched the door open and then nodded towards Marcus. Initiate McPherson was the first to enter, securing the interior while Bradford and the two scribes filed in afterward. The remainder of the squad entered one at a time ensuring no super mutants were approaching the building.

The place was torn apart; furniture lay sprawled about. There was a foul odor in the air, and when the Initiates turned on their flashlights, piles of decomposing bodies of Brahman were stuffed in a corner. Scribe Ortega retched at the smell, while the medic, Irene Briggs, looked at her questionably.

“Good God,” Montgomery muttered under his breath.

“At least it isn’t humans,” Russell smirked as he proceeded to clear more of the building with McPherson.

“Our objective is further in. Lets get going,” Marcus said while Scribe Ortega tried controlling herself.

Briggs jabbed the scribe on the shoulder, “Come on; I’ll be sure to bring a barf bag next time for you.”

“Bitch,” Ortega grinned as she followed Briggs.

The research center had multiple layers descending further underground. Without electricity supplying the elevators, the crew had to work their way down using the stairway. Thankfully, much of the stairs were still intact. When they reached the lowest level, Scribe Young pulled out a map, “The location is ahead in this direction.”

“Where the hell did you get a map of this place?” Marcus quirked an eyebrow.

“Proctor Quinlan,” Scribe Young answered rolling the map back up.

“Go figure,” Marcus examined the area. There were several offices and labs throughout the level, but a more secure room stood out. Marcus approached the metal door for closer inspection. Scribe Ortega studied the wall-mounted console tapping a few keys before shaking her head.

“Inoperable, Knight Gualtiero,” she shrugged, “What now?”

“Whatever the hell Proctor Quinlan wants is behind this door,” Marcus scanned the entire framework of the secured doorway, “One way or another, we’ve got to get in there. We’re running out of time.”

“Bottlecap mine?” Montgomery said half-heartily.

Marcus turned towards him, “Seriously?”

“We could try prying the doors open,” Initiate Sykes grabbed a long steel rod and positioned it into the groove between the two doors. She worked it further inwards and began pulling towards the left. There was a sound of the metal grating in protest as the doors responded. McPherson immediately went over to help Sykes pull the metal rod. Eventually, the doors were wide enough for the soldiers to pass through.

Marcus instructed both Initiate Bradford and McPherson to stay posted outside the door while the scribes were escorted towards the military intel. They were walking on the balcony overlooking an area down below. Russell held his flashlight out, the beam sweeping across the floor below until it landed on a sizeable object.

“Is that…” Russell stammered.

Marcus glanced over the railing, shining his flashlight at the object, “An atomic bomb?”

“Good thing we didn’t use any explosives,” Scribe Young mentioned.

“Lets get down there for a closer look,” Marcus headed down the stairs with the two scribes in tow. As they walked up to the weapon, Marcus tapped on it, making both the scribes flinch.

“ _Really_ , Knight Gualtiero?” Young snapped.

“It’s been dismantled,” Marcus pointed at the rear portion of the bomb, or where the rear part would have been, “Seems it was a prototype. Not an official bomb used during the Great War.”

Scribe Ortega was already scribbling down information while Scribe Young circled the bomb, “How are we going to get this up to ground level?”

“Either we locate a source of electricity to get the elevators working, or,” Marcus smiled, “Break our backs carrying this to the surface.”

“I’d rather not break my back,” Young retorted.

The faint sound of an explosion echoed through the area. Small bits of dust drifted down from the disturbance. The crew looked up at the ceiling in confusion.

“We haven’t missed our deadline, have we?” Ortega asked.

Marcus quickly viewed his watch, “We still have forty-five minutes…”

Initiate Bradford hollered from the balcony above them, “Sir, explosions on the surface.” Another one could be heard followed by two more.

“ _Shit_ ,” Marcus muttered, “We don’t have time for this. Everyone to the main stairs!”

Both scribes moved up the stairs, but Marcus hesitated briefly as a holodisk caught his eyes. He snatched it off the desk reading the label. _Atomic Prototype v.02-2050_. “Better than nothing,” Marcus jogged towards the main stairs where his squad was waiting.

“Here,” Marcus handed the holodisk to Scribe Ortega.

“What’s this?” She examined the object.

“Holodisk. I’ll explain later,” Marcus angled himself towards the others, “I want everyone on their guard. Weapons ready. I have a feeling we’re expecting company soon. Move out!”

The soldiers started working their way back up the stairs, but far more quickly than previously. The sound of explosions and gunfire intensified as they neared the surface. Several times, they stumbled as the ground quivered under their feet. As they emerged from the stairway, they came to a complete halt. The entire front of the research center was demolished into rubble. Carefully, the soldiers approached the hole and examined the area outside. Several super mutant corpses dotted the area, but the sound of gunfire appear to of relocated further out.

“Stay on your guard,” Marcus ordered as he led the others across the ground. The main gateway was unlocked, one door swinging lightly against the wind while the other was ripped off its hinges. Marcus peeked around the corner to investigate the cause of the military attack. Three behemoths were plowing their way through the front lines while super mutants used houses as leverage to push the Brotherhood of Steel back.

“Sir?” Initiate Sykes’ voice made Marcus whirl towards them.

“Behemoths. Three of them,” he peered at Scribe Ortega, “Still have the holodisk?”

She nodded.

“Good. Your priority is to get that holodisk back to Paladin Griffin. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’ll be running into a hail of gunfire. But we’ve got an advantage over them,” Marcus pointed at the buildings that super mutants were using to fire missiles and bullets down at the retreating Brotherhood of Steel soldiers, “Bastards don’t know we’re here. Lets try to take as many of those assholes down.”

“How?” McPherson asked.

“Initiate Russell and Sykes. Get behind cover and try picking them off with your sniper rifles. You two,” he pointed at the scribes, “Don’t engage in combat unless necessary. Stick with Russell and Sykes until we secure one of those houses. Once we do, I want all of you to reconvene with us. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” The soldiers nodded in unison.

“Move out,” Marcus trotted out of the stronghold, while Russell and Sykes took a position with their sniper rifles. The scribes stayed close to them watching the remainder of the squad navigate through the Brotherhood of Steel and super mutant corpses.

One of the super mutants was kneeling in the dirt attempting to fix his rifle. He stood up and pivoted towards the approaching soldiers, but before he could alert the others, a bullet pierced his skull, and he crumpled to the ground. Marcus’ squad ran past the body straight for the closest building where three super mutants were on the higher level. They were oblivious to the small group of soldiers behind as they focused on the battle before them.

Marcus watched in amusement as several super mutants were picked off by the snipers as he continued running forwards. Out of breath, they hid behind the exterior wall of the building. Marcus peered in, signaled for the others to move in while he remain poised in case super mutants attempt to flank them.

Creeping up the stairs, they each indicates their target before engaging. The super mutants barely had enough time to respond as the soldiers took them out. Montgomery looked down at Marcus from the upper level and gave him the thumbs up. Marcus nodded in acknowledgment but stayed in position, observing the other four trudging across the field towards them. The element of surprise was still in their favor, but Marcus wasn’t too sure how much longer it’ll last.

The building Marcus’ squad now occupied was larger than the others, which created an issue of guarding it against super mutants in case they decided to reclaim it. Regardless, he was going to take advantage of it by eliminating as many super mutants as he could. While he could, anyways. The initiates positioned themselves in locations to take out super mutants without sacrificing much protection. Their first target was the building a hundred yards to the left of them.

The super mutants there focused all their attention at the retreating army. Howling in rage, the super mutants stomped as a behemoth collapsed into one of the buildings occupied by more super mutants. The dead behemoth managed to crush some of the super mutants under its weight. The other more fortunate ones tried clinging onto something before falling to the ground. Sykes didn’t hesitate to pick those super mutants off, her shots deafened by the furious cries of the super mutants next door.

She ducked behind cover when one of the super mutants turned towards the building. It narrowed its eyes, tapped another mutant on the arm and pointed towards the building. Nodding, the other one snatched up a gatling gun and followed.

“ _God dammit_ ,” Sykes berated herself.

McPherson quickly darted down the stairs and informed Marcus of the approaching duo. Marcus ordered the others back to ground level, and they moved silently through the hallway. As the super mutants entered the back end of the building, Marcus and his squad filed out through the front making sure to stay out of the line of sight of the super mutants in the other building.

They jogged along the outer wall of the building where the behemoth lay motionless. As they neared the edge of the building, Marcus knelt scanning the battleground. The Brotherhood of Steel managed to bring down another behemoth but at the cost of numerous lives. _They were getting butchered out there._ Marcus chewed at the bottom of his lip, thinking about how to get his entire squad out of this mess. Groups of super mutants were moving about the area with their mutant hounds. Further to the right was another building. Military designed Marcus noted. It would provide better defense against the super mutants, but the path there will be daunting.

He turned to address the others, “This is going to get tough. There’s a military building up ahead that we could access. Might provide better coverage. Downside,” he glanced back out towards the super mutants, “Them. We’ll have to outrun their hounds.”

“Then lets get to it,” Initiate Montgomery said.

Marcus glimpsed at the super mutants and waited until they steered away. Standing up, he signaled the soldiers to start heading to the building. Sprinting across the ground, Marcus heard one of the super mutant’s curse. He barely caught sight of the mutant hounds spinning around to face the running soldiers.

Initiate Bradford stumbled to the ground. Montgomery grabbed him by the arm, tugging Bradford back up onto his feet and shouted, “Move!” Marcus could feel his heartbeat thumping loudly against his chest. The sound of gunfire, nearby explosions and the roaring of super mutants rang in his ears. Adrenaline is pumping through his entire body, Marcus didn’t see the mutant hound hurl itself onto Montgomery, who tumbled under the massive weight. Marcus soon afterward tripped and rolled on the ground.

He pushed himself back onto his feet and whirled around to where Montgomery was. He froze. The mutant hound was already tearing into the soldier, ripping his left arm from its socket. Montgomery screamed in agony as the creature dug it’s claws through the armor, pushing against his ribcage. Montgomery managed to yell, “Run!” before the mutant hound sank its teeth into his throat. Marcus stepped back from the mutilation. Grabbing his rifle off the ground, Marcus raced towards the building where the others awaited him.

He dashed into the building, slamming against empty barrels, as Russell pushed the door shut. McPherson and Young were already attempting to barricade the door when Bradford assisted Marcus back up, “Where’s Montgomery?”

“Dead,” Marcus managed to wheeze out in between breaths.

“Dead?”

“We’ll mourn him when we get to safety,” Marcus said as he strode off, “We can’t stay here forever. Check your weapons and ammunition.”

They had little time to relax when the super mutants began pushing their way into the building. Marcus and the others were on the move hoping to outrun them. Jogging down hallways, through delipidated offices, and dodging collapsed ceilings, they were gasping eagerly for breath. Marcus had caught Scribe Ortega before she plummeted to the ground.

“Sir, we can’t keep going,” Briggs huffed.

“If we stop, we die,” Marcus reminded her as Bradford took over aiding Ortega down the hallway.

“I think I’m going to puke,” McPherson leaned against a wall, his face drenched with sweat.

Initiate Sykes was checking her ammunition, “I’ve only got a few rounds left.”

“Same here,” Russell added.

Marcus knew they couldn’t stop to rest. The super mutants and their hounds were nipping at the soldier's heels the entire time. He noticed the fatigue and exhaustion on each of the soldiers’ faces. Disregarding protocols, Marcus removed his helmet running fingers through his jet-black hair, which was drenched.

“Fucking _bullshit!_ ” Marcus punched the wall violently. The others stood there in shock as he repeatedly slammed his fist against the wall. A howl echoed through the hallways stopping Marcus. He craned his head around to spot a mutant hound prowl towards him, its eyes penetrating his hazel ones.

“Sir!” Scribe Young pulled out his 10mm and started firing at the mutant hound. It scrambled across the linoleum floor in its blood, trying to evade the bullets, but flopped to the ground.

Marcus retraced his steps back to the others ushering them down the hallway. As they rounded the corner, a super mutant stepped out hoisting a gatling gun. _Fuck!_ “Everyone down!” Marcus shouted as a hail of bullets scattered all around them. The soldiers split, dodging into other hallways across from one another. Marcus grumbled realizing the hallway he ducked into led to a dead end. When the gatling gun stopped firing, Scribe Young leaned out firing a few rounds towards the super mutant. Marcus yanked him back in time as the gatling gun geared up to spray another dose of bullets at the soldiers.

“We’re sitting ducks here, Knight Gualtiero!” McPherson shouted from across the hall.

“Tell me something I don’t know!” Marcus retorted.

“An octopus has three hearts!” Briggs yelled next to McPherson.

“What!? Are you serious!?” Marcus hollered back.

“Definitely serious! I read it in a biology book when I was a kid!” she grinned.

“How the fuck did I not know that!?” Marcus shook his head.

“You probably do! Just suffering from brain freeze after spending two hundred years in cryo!” she responded in between gun fire.

Marcus chuckled as he leaned his head against the wall. Both McPherson, Sykes, and Young returned fired at the advancing super mutants while Briggs tended to Ortega, who had a bullet lodged in her chest plate.

Scribe Young peered back at Marcus after unloading the last of his ammo at the super mutants, “I’m out of bullets, sir! What’s the plan?”

Marcus scratched his head in contemplation. He forgot to put his helmet back on, but at that point, he didn’t give a shit anymore about his safety, “We’ll have to make a run for it.”

“We don’t even know where the exit is,” Scribe Young responded.

“Scribe Young!” Bradford tossed his 10mm ammo towards the scribe.

“Thanks!” Young pushed the release button on the 10mm pistol dropping the empty magazine before slapping in the other. He fired three rounds and then dodged his head back into cover, “It’s getting messy out there, sir. We need a plan.”

“Shit,” Marcus patted the scribe on the shoulder, “Switch me.” Young retreated as Marcus took up position against the corner. He scanned the hallway past the super mutants. _Dammit!_ Their exit was directly behind the super mutants. Marcus criticized himself for not noticing it earlier.

Scribe Young tapped Marcus’ shoulder, “Knight Gualtiero, what’s the plan?”

“The exit’s behind the super mutants. We need to take them out.”

Scribe Young moved up next to Marcus, “Ready when you are, sir.”

Marcus slowly nodded and turned to yell across the hall, “We got to take the bastards out!” The others nodded in agreement. Marcus leaned out preparing to fire. Pulling the trigger, he grinned as the bullet found its mark at the base of the super mutant’s throat. It gurgled, clawing at the throat while falling to its knees.

Scribe Young stepped out into the hallway to advance further up the hall. Marcus stood up to provide cover when he spotted another super mutant stepping out from behind a corner. _Asshole was hiding this entire time!_

“Young!” Time seemed to of slowed as he reached out to grab the scribe.

Marcus felt the warmth of the blood splatter across his face, as he watched Scribe Young’s body slump to the floor. A bullet hole through the head immediately killed the man. Remembrance of time served in the U.S. military came flooding back leaving Marcus in a traumatized stance as mayhem rained down around him. A soldier not much older than Scribe Young was killed instantly next to Marcus over two centuries ago. Their deaths were nearly identical triggering Marcus’ relapse. He froze, the sound of the current battle fading away, as his pulse thumped in response.

Scribe Ortega was yelling across from Marcus as the wall she hid behind was peppered with a spray of bullets from the super mutant’s machinegun. Blood streamed down her face mixing with the tears as she continued screaming. He already lost Initiate Montgomery to the mutated hound, and now Scribe Young lay motionless in a pool of his blood. And yet, he remains frozen in place completely oblivious of the bullets pelting everywhere around him.

Initiate Russell was attempting to provide cover for the medic, Briggs, as she made her way towards the slumped body of Scribe Young. She checked his pulse, shaking her head, and relocated next to Marcus. The sound of warfare eventually returned as Initiate Briggs started pulling at his sleeve, “Sir, we have to retreat!” Several more super mutants emerged and began working their way towards the soldiers.

“What?”

“We’ve got to retreat! There’s too many of them!” She ducked as a bullet ricocheted off the wall next to her.

Marcus furrowed his eyebrows, “Get the others out of here!”

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me. Get the others to safety.”

“We’re with you to the end, Knight Gualtiero,” Initiate McPherson shouted over the sound of gunfire.

 _God dammit!_ Marcus started grinding his teeth as he recollected his thoughts to formulate a plan of escaping from this battle, “We take the hallway, rotate in providing cover!”

Briggs dashed across the hallway followed by Marcus, as the group started sprinting to escape from the super mutants. Each one of them took turn firing back at the super mutants. Sykes was the first one to near the corner.

He could hear the sickening crunch as the club connected with Initiate Syke’s skull. The body crumpled to the floor twitching as the super mutant loomed over the fallen female soldier. Bits of hair and torn flesh clung to the nails embedded in the club.

“Turn! Take the left hallway!” Marcus shouted. They steered left and away from the super mutant.

Marcus stopped to face the super mutant. Holding his rifle in front of him, he glowered at the creature. Initiate Briggs came around the corner behind Marcus, her 10mm pistol drawn and aimed at the super mutant, “Knight Gualtiero!” She fired several rounds at the mutant to provide a temporary distraction. The super mutant howled as the bullets tore into his skin. Hefting the club, the creature swung it at Marcus, who dodged in time as the weapon grazed his hair. The club slammed into the wall raining plaster down upon Marcus. A few more rounds found their way into the green tissue as Marcus darted for safety.

He careened around the hall pulling Initiate Briggs out of the super mutant’s path as it came barreling down the hallway. Marcus aimed his rifle and started unloading bullets at the enraged monstrosity. Realizing that the super mutant didn’t deter from its path towards the two Brotherhood of Steel soldiers, Marcus grabbed Initiate Briggs and shoved her towards the exit, “Get the fuck out of here!”

Initiate Briggs hesitated, “Sir…”

“Go! Now!” Marcus shouted as he slapped another magazine into the rifle. The initiate sprinted through the door leaving Marcus to contend with the super mutant. _I’m not losing any more soldiers._

The super mutant snarled as it stared down Marcus.

“Come on, you ugly son-of-a-bitch,” Marcus stilled his breath keeping the rifle aimed at the mutant’s head, who soon let out a war cry as it withdrew a mini-nuke and started running straight for Marcus. “You’ve got to be _shitting_ me,” Marcus pulled the trigger. The bullet dug itself into the super mutant’s cheekbone barely phasing the creature as it continued rushing towards Marcus.

“Dammit!” Marcus started sprinting down the hallway towards the exit, hoping to outrun the large-framed mutant. He could hear the ticking of the mini-nuke behind him. The ceiling above started collapsing when a missile exploded above from outside. _Shit! Shit! Shit!_ As the ceiling came plummeting downwards, Marcus slammed his body to the ground and slide across the linoleum floor, his boots aimed for the exit. He barely escaped the downpouring infrastructure as he crashed through the doorway. The super mutant wasn’t as fortunate as its body was pelted with the fractured planks and debris before being crushed under the weight. The mini-nuke exploded shattering the remnants of the building into pieces as Marcus was hurled into the air. He collided with the ground and skidded several feet. The excruciating pain overwhelmed Marcus as he came to a stop. Thankfully, the combat armor took the blunt of the impact sparing his life.

He laid there trying to repose himself before struggling back to his feet. He felt dizzy, lightheaded, and ached from sore muscles and bruises. The carnage was spread everywhere as Marcus limped around trees engulfed in flames, piles of wreckage, and strewn bodies of both super mutants and Brotherhood of Steel soldiers. Blood trickled down his face from a cut on the head. He tried wiping the blood from his eyes as he staggered across the battlefield. Marcus couldn’t find his squad. _They had to of made it out of this hell._ He came to a sudden halt as a band of super mutants rounded the edge of a building. The baying of the mutant hounds meant that they caught his scent, and they came charging towards Marcus, as the super mutants stomped behind. _Just how many of these bastards are there?_

Marcus sighed as he realized he lost the rifle back in the explosion. Equipping the .44, he regarded the pistol, “Here we go again. One versus the many. Just my luck. Why do I have such _shitty_ luck?” As the mutant hounds drew closer, a barrage of gunfire ripped through the beasts, shredding through their carcasses, and leaving them in bloody gore. Marcus turned around to see a dozen of soldiers advancing towards the super mutants, some of them in the Brotherhood of Steel issued T-60 power armor.

“Seriously? _Now_ they show up?” Marcus remarked, rolling his eyes. A rock was flung at Marcus by a super mutant, bonking him on the head and he toppled over unconscious, lying there as the Brotherhood of Steel eliminated the remainder of the super mutants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pew pew pew.


End file.
